


garden shed

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:32:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sansa Stark thinks her family have made a huge mistake moving here, just by the looks of the family that owns the flower shop across the street. Prim, proper — very well polished. Everything her family aren't. She watches as a teenage boy steps outside to get a better look, arms folded, smiling. His fair hair perfectly styled, athletic build, light eyes. Sansa glances back at her family.Jon and Robb are sweating and bright red, both sporting scruffy beards and messy hair, holding each end of a bedside cabinet. Arya's picking dirt from under her nails and sulking, and Sansa's pretty sure she has oil on her shirt. She herself, is most likely stood there looking gormless and a mess. Gods, she should of brushed her hair before getting out of the car.They look a right state, basically.Or, the way things run is pretty set in stone in Kings Landing; the Lannisters run everything, the Tyrell's own everything, the Dothraki steal everything. Sansa Stark and her family stick out like a sore thumb.





	1. Chapter 1

Sansa Stark thinks her family have made a huge mistake moving here, just by the looks of the family that owns the flower shop across the street. Prim, proper — very well polished. Everything her family aren't. She watches as a teenage boy steps outside to get a better look, arms folded, smiling. His fair hair perfectly styled, athletic build, light eyes. Sansa glances back at her family.

Jon and Robb are sweating and bright red, both sporting scruffy beards and messy hair, holding each end of a bedside cabinet. Arguing. Arya's picking dirt from under her nails and sulking, and Sansa's pretty sure she has oil on her shirt. Who knows where that came from. She herself, is just stood there looking gormless and probably a mess. Gods, she should have brushed her hair before getting out of the car.

They look a right state, basically.

"It's alright Sans, don't you help too much. Don't want you getting hurt," Ned calls from behind her, carrying a lamp. He's smiling, but she knows he's getting annoyed.

It wasn't supposed to take this long, of course, but Arya had refused to help on behalf of her protest against, well, being there, and Sansa had to admit that she herself was very much going at a snails pace.

"Sorry," she mutters, offering an apologetic smile and climbing into the moving van to grab a coffee machine. She's helping at all, okay, which is much more than her sister.

"Stop being a brat, Arya," she hears her mother say on her way into the building. It's useless and they all know it, despite the various expletives thrown at her as every other Stark made their way past. Even Bran had tried ramming into her with his wheelchair to get her moving.

She gave her a kick on her way past, ignoring the yelp that followed. 

"Where's this go?" She asks a retreating Jon.

"How would I know?" He shoves past her. She'd be wanting an apology for that later.

Taking a guess, Sansa places it in on one the counters in the kitchen of the shop. They could always move it if it was wrong. 

Most of the stuff in the shop looked like it had been placed there at a guess, to be honest and Sansa shook her head noticing some of the items. A wooden spoon, bath towels, one of her mother's rolls of wool. Were her brothers really this clueless? Sansa rolls her eyes and walks back out, taking the wool with her.

"Just so you know, the boys hav—" She stopped once she saw her mother in deep conversation with an older woman. A very stylish older woman, Sansa noticed looking at the woman's outfit. Must be filthy rich. 

"Oh Sansa, darling, this is Olenna — sorry, what was your last name again?" Her mother smiles dazzlingly at her. It's her shop voice and Sansa holds in a smirk. 

"Tyrell, sweet. Oh, aren't you a beauty!" The woman exclaimed, turning to Sansa.

Sansa smiles awkwardly at her. She was never too sure how to respond in these situations. Of course, she wasn't Arya, who just scowled and smiled back sarcastically, but she also wasn't Robb who took it completely in his stride. 

"This is Olenna Tyrell, she owns the florists across the street," Catelyn tells her, looking flustered. The shop's name is Tyrell Garden. Sansa smirks this time.

"Lovely to meet you Mrs Tyrell." Sansa nods. 

"Miss, darling. Gods, you are stunning. Isn't she stunning, Loras?" Olenna clasps her hand, smiling, before looking behind her.

It's only then that Sansa notices the boy from earlier stood behind her. Her cheeks tinge. 

"Yes, grandmother," he agrees, eyes twinkling at her. He, Loras, nods politely and she smiles back. Catelyn's brain is exploding, she can feel it.

"This is my grandson Loras. I'm assuming you'll be attending school together in September?" Olenna asks her. 

Truthfully, Sansa's not too sure how she's suddenly the centre of attention, and she looks fleetingly at her mother before answering, "I think so. Queen Regents?". 

Loras nods again, still smiling. "I'll look forward to seeing you," he tells her. And of course, he's just saying it to be nice, but Sansa's cheeks are on fire now.

"You too," she replies, meekly. 

"Is it an nice school, Loras?" Her mother saves her. Thank Gods. 

She's still holding the wool, and she notices Robb raise an amused eyebrow at it as he passes. Without looking away, Sansa kicks a leg out at him. 

"Well, I mean, it's a school, so I'm biased to say no," he laughs, "but no, it's okay. The teaching's good, and the sports teams are brilliant. Do you play any sports, Sansa?" 

And great, the attentions on her again. What does she say? Sure, she runs track and has played soccer before, but is that considered acceptable here? 

"Uh, I run, kind of. Not much else," she tells him lamely. Loras' smile doesn't falter. 

"Oh, great! My sister, Margaery, runs track. I mean, she does everything, but still. I'll tell her to look out for you at trials." Olenna and Loras share a laugh at that. Sansa catches her mothers eye. 

 _Make them leave,_ Sansa tries to say with her face. Catelyn doesn't get the memo, obviously, becasue she opens her mouth again.

"Margaery? Is she another of your grandchildren?" 

"Oh yes, one of many, angel. I'd tell you all their names but even I forget sometimes," Olenna chuckles and Loras rolls his eyes. 

"Not me and Marg, though. Obviously." He winks.

"Of course not, you're my prized peaches." She pinches his cheek gently. Loras just grins and shakes his head, squirming out of her grasp.

"Well I'm sorry to be keeping you, we'll be off, dear. Lovely to have you here! It's been a while since we've had a new family around here!" Olenna smiles widely at her mother and Catelyn and Sansa say their goodbyes and see them across the street before looking st eachother.

"She's a character isn't she, dear?" Catelyn laughs, rubbing Sansa's back. 

"I'd say."

"She's also the richest woman in the town," comes her dad's voice from behind them. He wraps an arm around both of their shoulders.

"Really? I thought that would've been Cersei Lannisters lot," Catelyn raises an eyebrow at him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Unlike most teenagers she knows, Sansa really appreciates her mothers and fathers love for eachother. She thinks there's nothing as simple that's lovelier than having a complete family, and considers herself blessed.

"Oh gods no, been borrowing money for years them lot." Ned shakes his head.

"Funneling money from them shitty campaigns, I reckon," pipes up Robb, who's now shirtless and carrying one of the last boxes. Sweating a little less, thank god.

"Wouldn't be surprised, eh," Ned laughs. 

It's no secret that her family hate the Lannister family. They're a big, conservative political family of which the head of, Tywin, had pretty much dictated how everything was run in Kings Landing for about fourty years.

Even though he himself had stopped being mayor thirty or so years ago, he'd managed to get various members of his family into the role over the years, as well as close friends, to keep his hold over the place. Currently, it was Cersei Lannister, who was Ned's friend Robert's nightmare of an ex wife. 

"If they're so rich, why've I never heard of them?" Sansa wonders aloud. 

"They're pretty lowkey people, from what Robert says. Clever, like, very clever, but never ones for too much spotlight," Ned explains. Sansa's just noticed that they're all kind of just staring across the street into this family's shop and she's all of sudden quite embarrassed. 

"Are we done with the boxes now, Robb?" She breaks free from her dads grasp and turns to speak to her brother, who's sprawled himself out on the front steps with his phone in one hand a cigarette in the other.

"Think so. Pretty sure Rickon's been just dumping them in the back for a few trips now, though," he answers, nodding to the wool in Sansa's hand. 

Catelyn tuts and takes it from her hands gently, muttering about how kids will be the death of her or something or other, before going into the building. With varying levels of enthusiasm, they follow, Ned locking the shop door behind him.

As they make their way through the shop, Sansa notices that a solid fifty percent of the things dumped there probably actually belonged upstairs and she wonders how no one noticed that the way Rickon was racing through boxes was actually really a bit suspicious. 

"I can't be bothered walking up all them again," Rob grunts pushing the button for the lift. It'd cost a lot to get the lift installed, Sansa knew, but her mother and father would never complain about that obviously; it's not like they could leave Bran outside.

"Will we all fit?" Ned asks as the lift comes down. 

"It's okay, Sansa and I will take the stairs. You boys are the ones who've done all the hard work," Catelyn rubs their arms, and its patronising, but purposefully so, and Robb gives her a sarcastic laugh as they begin up the stairs. 

Three steps is what it takes before Catelyn jumps straight in.

"That Loras is very attractive isn't he?" She nudges her. Sansa just about holds back the eye roll. This was going to happen the minute the boy poked into her mothers perephial vision.

Persistence was something her mother had in spades, Sansa soon figured out as she reached fifteen without a single boyfriend and her mother began to grow afraid. Pretty, sweet and ever so tall, gods Sansa, I bet they're lining up for you!

They certainly were not. Even back in Winterfell, where it was certainly less prestigious than here, people thought the Starks were a bit strange. Lots of kids, all kind of scary looking in their own way, not to mention the father — good friend of Robert Baretheon! People stared, always, even before she knew they were. Robb and Jon being complete nuisances in the older years at her school certainly didn't help either, really. 

Robb was always getting into stupid bits of trouble, like fighting and smoking, with that boy that her mother hated, Theon Greyjoy, whereas Jon was just a complete smartass. Everything the teacher said, he had a comeback, and wasn't afraid to voice it. He wasn't bad persay, just outspoken. Which was probably a teachers nightmare. It made them wary of Sansa, always placing her right near their desk or right at the back, depending on how much they cared about their job.

Eventually, they cottoned on that she couldn't be further away from her brothers, when the straight A's kept rolling in (Jon had the intelligence for them, and kept it up for a while, before he decided his band and weed were more important) and she didn't start coming to school in ridiculous amounts of makeup with her skirt definitely higher than the regulations permitted. Gods, were they relieved. And then not too long after Robb finally departed, Arya graced them with her presence. 

"Yeah, I guess so." Sansa shrugged. Loads was pretty, very pretty. It should be easy to love a pretty boy. She never managed it with Joffrey.

"Seem like they're going to be quite a family, those Tyrell's. She invited us over for dinner before you came out," Catelyn pushes and it's not subtle at all. Her eyes are twinkling.

Does she really think a boy like Loras is going to look twice at a girl like her? And that she'd be stupid enough to think he'd be properly interested if he did? He seemed nice but most likely he's just another Joff; pretty, athletic and not a right lot else.

"Tonight?" Gods, she hopes it's not tonight. She really isn't in the mood.

"No, silly, of course not. She said she'll let me know," Catelyn assures her, smirking at her face. It must've been obvious how much she despaired at the thought of that. 

"Good. I'm absolutely knackered." She flops down on the hastily position sofa. Actually, it looks reasonably okay where it's been planted. Not perfect of course, it clashes a bit too much the with curtains this close to them, but okay. Must've been Jon; Robb probably would've just thrown it through the door if it was him. 

"Are we getting takeaway for tea, mum?" Robb calls out from the kitchen. He's holding a restaraunt menu. Where's he got that from already?

"Of course, darling. Unless anyone fancies cooking?" Everyone in earshot, including little Rickon, hastily shakes their heads. 

"It's a Chinese, was in one of the cupboards. Local, I think," He tells Catelyn, passing her the menu. Rickon comes to stand between her legs and cranes his head to get a look.

"Can we get prawn crackers?" He asks excitedly.

"We absolutely can, sweet. After all, you need a reward after being such a big, strong boy today, don't you?" Catelyn rubs his head before planting a kiss on it. Rickon's grinning ear to ear and Sansa has to bite back a snort when she remembers all the precariously balanced items left in the shop.

"What are we getting?" Arya slumps into the room. She's perked up slightly, which by Arya standards meant she didn't have her arms folded and wasn't entirely scowling.

"You'll be lucky if you get anything, way you've behaved today," Catelyn chides. It's not serious, Sansa can tell. Also can Arya, judging by the way she ignores it and takes a seat on the kitchen counter.

None of them were particularly jumping with joy about moving to Kings Landing, Sansa herself included, but as stubborn as Arya was she was still very much in of belief that if she pouted and whined enough, they'd pack all their belongings up and go straight back. Really, Sansa doesn't know why she's all that fussed.

Without sounding harsh, Arya didn't have all too many friends back in Winterfell. She was loud, unforgiving and really, quite rude. Popular girls couldn't stand her, popular boys laughed at her, and with her, occasionally, and all the smart kids were beyond terrified of her. Sansa always felt like Arya never really knew where she was supposed to go.

She had a few friends, of course, that she'd eat lunch with and such, but they were all a bit strange and Sansa didn't get the impression that Arya was overly fond of any of them. It seemed to be a kind of survival thing that they'd all come together. 

Sansa herself, was in a pretty cliche group of girls, led by her best and oldest friend Jeyne. Jeyne was prettier and smarter than all the other girls, so they all wanted to be friend, naturally, and Jayne pretty much allowed them if they were funny or pretty enough. Truly, Sansa never quite figured out which one she was. They'd been friends since they could walk. Sentimentality, perhaps?

Pity, probably. 

Thinking about back home made her sad, in a way. She could already tell Kings Landing was going to be very, very different. And she wasn't sure what kind yet.

After they'd eaten their Chinese (or rather, inhaled it in Robb's, Jon's and Ned's case), they pretty much all went straight to bed. Apart from Arya, who hadn't done anything all day and now decided she wanted to spring into action and practice her karate DVD. Thankfully, Sansa didn't have to share with her anymore, and she felt beyond grateful for that she tucked herself in bed to the faint sound of grunting, abrupt yelling and fabric swishing coming from down the hall. 

The ceiling was a lot lower in this room. It was pretty much the only thing in their roof besides herself and her bed. Sansa stared up at  and for a moment it made her feel incredibly ill. Like it was closing in, suffocating. She forced her eyes closed. Tight.

It was a time a new start, was the mantra her parents were pushing, and she repeated it over and over in her head until she fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeeeeeeek. btw the ages in this no way correlate to the book/show lolz.

As of now, the only thing they have in their living room is a couch, and a TV, and Robb's Xbox. Therefore, Sansa's only vague source of entertainment is watching the flurry of emotions that fly across her (adult) brothers face as he gets pummelled by Theon back home.

"He's cheating, I swear," he mutters to himself after Theon takes the ball of him once more. 

"Nah I think you're just shit, mate." Jon doesn't look up from his phone. Sansa snorts. 

It's interesting really, that even though she's really the only one in the family who cares about soccer, that Robb seems to be so invested in the game. 

He's playing as Juventus, by her recommendation. Theon's Real Madrid. Ronaldo's scored four already and it isn't even half time. "You can't just keep shooting from there, it's not fair!" Robb had shouted angrily down his phone at him after the third (unfortunately, Theon was on speaker; the headset had been broken after a particularly heated Black Ops session last year.)

Soon enough, it becomes boring, especially when they start talking about this girl that Theon's met, and how hot she is, then Robb starts going on about how hot some girl he'd spoke to this morning when he went to the store is, and she has to leave before she gets testosterone poisoning. Jon leaves too, which makes her laugh. He was never really one for all the super macho dude bro bullshit like his brother. 

Vaguely, Sansa remembers a time when they were young and her mother had to practically drag him out of her Wendy house to play with the other boys. At first, he'd been in there to hide from Ramsay Bolton who'd decide that was going to be the donkey that he pinned his tail on. After a while though, as he sat with the girls in there and chatted about school and Disney movies and mummies and daddies and everything else that raves through a sugar laced six year old's head, it became apparent that he was definitely more of a laid back, talking type than his older brother. 

Ned and Catelyn had panicked at first, they'd told them, laughing, thinking he'd grown and fondness for a pink and the dresses, and Ned apparently was holding his breath and waiting for him to walk out in a dress and start chasing all of the boys. It twinged Sansa's heart to hear them say that, even though they were joking.

He didn't, anyway, all he did was leave eventually when they started talking about princesses and kissing instead of dragons and heroes, and he got disinterested. It was a trait of his that never failed to make Sansa laugh, the way he just upped and left when he wasn't bothered about something anymore. Although she's pretty sure his ex Ygritte most likely doesn't feel that way.

"Had enough of that racket have you, dear?" Her mother asks from the kitchen as she walks past. She's washing dishes, even though they have a dishwasher, becasue "the damned thing never does it the way I like it." 

"Just about. I think it might start getting violent. Arya might have to be sent in as reinforcements," Sansa muses, pulling out a stool at the breakfast bar.

"Well I hope not — she's gone off with some boy she met down at the park." 

Sansa raises a brow. Arya, her scrappy little sister with the dreadful haircut and scruffy nails, was off with a boy? 

"Oh?" 

"Not like that, Gods. Think we have a while before all that starts," Cat bites her lip, "Maybe even forever." 

Oh. Is her mother hinting at what she thinks she's hinting at? Her ears redden slightly. 

Arya wasn't gay, Sansa knew that. When they were little and they used to go and play on the park together, they'd been this terror of an older boy who used to throw homophobic insults at her all the time. Dyke, tranny, homo — everything. Of course, Arya was never phased, just laughed it off, in that Arya way of hers. But Sansa knows that if she were, like _that,_ she probably wouldn't of been so unbothered about those rumours in a quaint, conservative town like Winterfell.

Her sister just didn't like pretty dresses and makeup and niceties andall the things that Sansa and Catelyn loved. That was fine. Mostly.

"A while, definitely. I think she still thinks boys have cooties," Sansa laughs her mothers comment off. Cat chuckles along with her, shaking her head.

"Bless her, ay. Oh, me and Robb ran into Loras Tyrell earlier. And his sister," Catelyn turns to tell her, wiping her hands off with a kitchen towel. There's still dishes left in the sink, though, which probably isn't a good sign for her.

"Yeah?" She tries to indicate her disinterest without sounding rude.

"He's single!" Cat kind of does this weird faux fist bump thing and it genuinely makes Sansa feel a little nauseous. 

"Please, don't ever do that again."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry but, Sansa! That very handsome and polite young man across the street, that couldn't keep his eyes off of you, is single! How about that?" Sansa doesn't know how to respond.

Truthfully, she has no interest in Loras Tyrell whatsoever. She doesn't care if he's the prettiest, nicest, funniest boy in the world – she doesn't want him. 

"He's not really my type," she says lamely. Catelyn huffs, her hands on the hips.

"I'm worried about you, Sans. You used to be boy mad." It's true, she did. One Direction posters and the whole shebang. At one point she even ran a somewhat popular Harry Styles fan account. 

"I'm fine, I swear. I'm just focusing on school right now." She's not lying really; she got two B's last year because of Joffrey. It was something she couldn't afford, especially not if she wanted to be a vet. 

"Promise me? Everything's okay?" Her mother stares into her eyes.

"Yes." Catelyn nods and rubs her back. Sansa leans into the touch. 

"Okay. Okay! We're having dinner with them tonight, by the way." 

Sansa groans. 

"Why?" She pouts. 

"Because we're polite, and we were invited. I'm debating whether or not to leave Arya and Rickon at home, though. I get the feeling their dinner time etiquette wouldn't be appreciated with a household like that." 

While the Tyrell's seem nice enough, Sansa can't help but hum in agreement. Loras and Olenna were so beautifully put together, she can only imagine what the rest of them look like, considering there's apparently so many. 

"How many of them are there?" Her mother's shuffling around in the cupboards now, rearranging pans and things. Sansa's pretty sure she's just doing whatever she can to avoid helping Ned put shelves up upstairs.

"Well, there's Loras and Olenna. And the sister Margaery, who me and Robb met at the store. She's lovely, your age, I'm sure you'll be friends." Oh, so that was the girl Robb was telling Theon about. For some reason, Sansa's not too sure her and Margaery with "the great tits" and the "blowjob eyes" will get along as well as her mother believes. 

"Is that it?" 

"No, I'm pretty sure the rest of the grandchildren will be there." 

"Not the parents?" That was an interesting situation.

"Well, Loras and Margaery live with Olenna above the shop. I don't think the rest do. That's strange isn't it?" Her mother ponders. Sansa hums in agreement. 

"A bit." Rickon comes charging in then, covered in paint, Ned following sheepishly. 

"He uh, got a bit carried away." He smiles goofily at Cat. Sansa smirks.

Somehow, the boys managed to get paint absolutely everywhere, his face, his hands, his clothes — everywhere. She dreads to think what state the upstairs is in. There's a little smudged handprint on Ned's shirt at the bottom, she noticed and shakes her head.

"Gods sake, look at the state of you!" Cat tuts, snapping her tea towel against the kitchen counter. She's trying to focus on the immaturity of it, and not the cuteness, and Sansa admires her resolve.

"Don't look at me woman, the little gremlin has a mind of his own. Don't you, little man?" Ned hoists Rickon up under arms and speaks directly into his ear. Her fathers a tall, strong man. Often, Sansa forgets quite how intimidating he could look to a stranger. 

After a small amount of bickering, and blame throwing, Ned carts Rickon upstairs and instructs him to have a shower and continues to paint alone. Sansa offers to help, purely out of politeness, and thankfully he sees it for what it is and declines. 

Catelyn's told her it'll be around six they go to the Tyrell's house (apartment?) for dinner and she has a couple of hours to get ready, so pulls out her makeup and hair straighteners and starts to work. She's likely to be the only one to make an effort, she knows, apart from her mother, and that only makes her wish to look nice even stronger. Lord knows Arya probably won't even bother to brush her hair, and she'd be surprised if Robb or Jon bothered to shave or change too.

Genuinely, she loves her family, she does — so much. More than anything. But gods, she wishes they'd care a little more about appearances sometimes. Especially when going to visit such a put together family like the Tyrells. 


End file.
